


The Absent Authors

by msariadneoliver



Series: The Veracity Femme Detectives [1]
Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: F/F, I suppose it's a thing now, Very non canon compliant, detective agency au, is that a thing?, part Agatha Christie, part Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries, part The Price of Salt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 18:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17750795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msariadneoliver/pseuds/msariadneoliver
Summary: Two renowned and reclusive authors are seen storming out of a small cafe after a vicious row on the morning both are to submit the manuscripts for their latest books. Seventy-eight hours later, one is found with a poisoned dart sticking out of their neck, while the other appears to have vanished without a trace, taking any sign of the new manuscripts along with them. Newly married Esme Squalor and Olivia Caliban, both intent on starting their life together anew and leaving the trials and tribulations of their past behind, had no intention on getting caught up in anything so sordid or so bizarre. Esme was only meant to retrieve a manuscript and a collection of In items while Olivia was willing to do anything to receive a proper job recommendation. Yet they find themselves caught in the midst of this particular puzzle, uncovering secrets, figurative and literal skeletons, and enemies determined to make sure these women don't unravel the carefully crafted legacy they've left behind.





	The Absent Authors

The espresso machine behind Esme’s shoulder hissed like an angry snake. It was a sudden noise, breaking the otherwise early morning quiet of the cafe, that she jumped a little, in spite of herself. She recovered quickly, trying to maintain the air of detached curiosity she’d had before. The young couple she had been trying not to appear as though she had been staring at, still didn’t seem to have notice for her or much else. They seemed to be trying to appear inconspicuous, although if that was in fact their intention, they were certainly doing a terrible job of it. Not from the way their whispers seemed to be cutting through the air with a sharp staccato, or from the steel in the young woman’s stare, as the man’s gestures became more and more wild. They could wear their very not-In long brimmed hats and hideous headscarves all day long if they wanted to, but that didn’t change the fact that they had chosen to have their domestic in a cramped cafe at a drearily early hour, with only a small handful of bleary eyed diners and waitstaff - Esme was in the process of stifling her own yawn - so they were completely obtuse if they didn’t think they’d call attention to themselves. It certainly meant that Esme couldn’t be accused of eavesdropping. 

Still, she continued to watch them from over the brim of her dog-eared copy of  _ Wuthering Heights _ , her free hand using a spoon to stir her tea, which had become lukewarm by now. She hadn’t bothered to turn the page in over ten minutes, because her eyes kept glazing over the same words again and again. It was too early to try and bring herself to care - because  _ honestly,  _ these dreadful little brats and their dreadful little romance that was doomed all along, could they please just  _ die _ already? The only thing that held her attention at all from inside the book’s contents, was a small black and white photograph of a little girl with a velvet ribbon tied in her hair tucked safely in the folds of the pages. A perfectly manicured finger stroked across it slowly, indulging in that feeling of wistfulness, before she returned to the more intriguing subject at hand.   

The volatile couple in the corner didn’t seem to be faring much better than Catherine and what’s-his-name, and she dared to lower the book an inch or so. The man’s back was turned to her, only the back of his head with its slicked black hair visible to her. By contrast, she was able to take in the woman’s features, what wasn’t concealed by a pink silk scarf or a tacky pink mink fur, finding them both reasonably attractive and strangely familiar. Bright red curls slipped out beneath the silk, clashing against the pink around her neck, but framing her well defined cheekbones. That pink fur in question, hideous though it was, was one that Esme could recognize on its quality, knowing exactly which In boutique she would have found it in. She clutched to her chest something brown and leathery, like a pocketbook, only significantly bigger. Her close set green eyes were narrowed, with such ferocious ire, that Esme almost pitied the still faceless gentleman across from her. Almost. It was still too early for anyone to elicit her complete sympathy. The bitter terseness of their conversation remained unchanged, simmering at a still mostly inaudible level. What works she could catch, she couldn’t form any satisfactory context for. The two were beginning to bore Esme, and she had been reluctantly returning her attention to her book, when a sudden commotion stopped her.  
“You BASTARD!” The woman across the room was on her feet now, her outburst causing Esme, and practically everyone else to start. The cafe became completely silent. Several heads turned in the direction of their table, like a collection of gossip hungry owls to which only the woman seemed totally oblivious. The man, on the other hand, looked rapidly around the room.  
“Geri, please, keep your voice down. It’s not what you think.” He hissed, and Esme was now able to get a glimpse of his square jawed profile. He, too, gave her a jolting sense of familiarity that she couldn’t quite place. She found no reason now, to not set her book down now, and lean forward along the table, the time for subtlety long past.

“Don’t you try and placate me,” The woman practically snarled. She still clutched her pocketbook to her chest, nearly bending it down the middle. Her green eyes were now ablaze, although there was something about her expression that gave Esme pause. Something that wasn’t fully anger. Her tone, however, indicated nothing but that. “You and your precious magnum opus. Well, you know what? You can take that magnum opus and choke on it for all I care! You - you - !” Too red faced and flustered to think of a final biting insult, the woman pushed past the table, past the man, storming out of the cafe. The little bell above the door gave an off-pitch jingle with the force that was pushed against it, and in her rush to the street, the woman nearly toppling over another poor soul just coming in.    
“Oh, for goodness sake. Geri!” He placed several notes onto the table before bolting, in a mad dash to catch her. 

A moment before, Esme might have watched as much of the ensuing chaos as she could, with relish, but when she saw who the two had nearly bowled over in their haste, she suddenly couldn’t have cared less. Even she couldn’t disregard the genuine smile that traced her lips, or the distinct skip in her heartbeat. Not that she minded not disregarding them, quite the opposite. The sight of her wife in the doorway, dark hair pinned somewhat askew under a cap, in that pale green coat and blue wool dress that may not have quite been entirely in, but suited her so perfectly, was enough to make her never mind anything else ever again. She waved, catching Olivia’s eye at once. Olivia wasted no time approaching her table, a bewildered expression in her dark eyes.

“What,” She began, collapsing into the seat across, “was  _ that  _ all about?” Esme could only laugh

and shake her head.

“Search me. Lover’s quarrel taking a spectacular turn I suspect.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to Olivia’s cheek, inhaling the scent of sweet and freshly applied perfume against her neck. “I’m more interesting to know how well you’re doing. Sleep alright, darling?” 

“I suppose so. As well as I can in hotel bedrooms, anyway.” She offered a soft smile as she removed her coat and took a moment to examine her surroundings. “I’m surprised that you chose this cafe for breakfast. I wouldn’t have taken these sorts of hole-in-the-wall places would be terribly in.” 

“Well, sometimes convenience takes precedence over fashion, darling. I didn’t want you to have to travel too far to get here.” She averted her gaze for a moment, and waved a hand dismissively, “Besides, their tea blend is quite good.” Olivia reached for Esme’s mug to try for herself. She flinched and her nose wrinkled in a way that made Esme giggle a little. 

“It’s cold,” Was all she said.

“Well. I did get a bit distracted, didn’t I, darling?” Esme replied. She raised her hand to bring a waitress back over to her table. Olivia was now looking at her with an air of concern. Esme couldn’t help but notice the way her wedding ring caught the light as she fiddled with the mug. The spirals in her stomach of course, had to be completely unrelated. 

“Right. Have you eaten anything? Or just the cold tea?” Olivia asked. 

“Why would I need to eat anything?” Esme leaned forward now, with a wicked grin, “When I was treated to the most  _ splendid  _ meal not a few hours ago?” She was delighted by the brilliant shade of red she was able to elicit from Olivia’s cheeks. 

“Don’t be vulgar,” Olivia tried to grimace, but the there was a knowing amusement in her eyes. Still, Esme reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together, letting the material of their rings bump together, and reaching down to kiss at the knuckles. “No, I haven’t eaten. Not yet.”

“Did you order anything?”

“No. I was waiting for you, wasn’t I?” She pushed the laminated sheet of paper that served as a menu towards her wife, trying to hide the own blush that had crept into her cheeks. “I mean. We’ve had breakfast together every day for the last three months. It’s not something I’m particularly keen on giving up just yet.”

“Oh. Well in that case,” She took the menu from Esme, “Who am I to object to that?” 

Within ten minutes, they were occupied with their breakfasts, which had arrived on scalding plates. They had ordered scrambled egg whites with creamed spinach and toast and orange marmalade, the dishes smelling buttery, and the steam from the eggs fogging at Olivia’s glasses. She had picked at them at first with some apprehension, and Esme knew it was because she still hadn’t completely forgiven the Hemlock Tearoom. Not that Esme could blame her, really, their eggs were practically lethal - there was a reason the place had been out for ages - but she seemed to relent when she watched Esme eat while pulling almost no faces. As they ate and sipped from their mugs, which had once again been filled with hot drinks, Esme began to shuffle through pages of  _ Wuthering Heights _ , finding something comforting about the feel of the old pages against her fingers, and Olivia absently rifling through the contents of her handbag. 

There was a giddy, almost unsureness that came with being in each other’s company like this, still, home, actually beginning their married life properly after three months of honeymooning abroad. Olivia’s brows furrowed suddenly. 

“Esme, dear, you wouldn’t happen to know what happened to my notebook, would you?” Esme was quick to reach for her own handbag, letting out a small gasp in realization. 

“Bollocks. I thought I’d put it back.” She handed Olivia the book, small and red with a little golden clasp. Olivia took it, with more bemusement than annoyance. 

“One of these days, Esme, you’re really going to have to find your own notebook to use. There isn’t enough room for everything we both write.”

“I know, I know, darling. And I will. I actually just made a note to remind myself.”

“In my notebook, you mean.” 

“You’re really preoccupied with the semantics, aren’t you, darling?” Esme rolled her eyes a little and craned her neck, “What do you need to be writing down now, anyway?”

“Directions to the public library. It’s on the other side of the city.”

“Oh, right. That interview’s today, is it?” Olivia nodded

“This afternoon.”

“Oh, that’s great, really,” Esme said, hoping to make up for the confidence Olivia visibly lacked.

“It will be if anything comes of it. That’s still pending,”

“Olivia. Darling. There isn’t an establishment from here to - to the Hinterlands, that wouldn’t be lucky to have you as a librarian.”

“That isn’t what Vice Principal Nero seemed to think,” Olivia remarked, sourly. 

“Well, Vice Principal Nero doesn’t have any sort of handle on basic hygiene or proper violin management. Let alone recognizing a valuable librarian or a brilliant woman when he sees one,” 

“Esme . . .” 

“Darling, we both know I’m never wrong on these sorts of things.” Her expression turned serious, green eyes sparkling like emeralds, “But if you’re still not sure, it’s not too late to phone Georgina. Forgeries are practically an art to her. A letter of reference would be practically,” She snapped her fingers in absence of a proper vocabulary for Dr. Georgina Orwell’s talents. 

“A tempting offer, I’m sure,” Olivia replied, with a wry smile “But I think it’s best to work with what I have.”  

She noticed Esme’s own scrawl along one of the pages, much smaller and narrower than her own. “Haven’t you got your own meeting today?”

“What? Oh, that.” The enthusiasm drained from her voice almost at once, “It’s a publishing house. Sheldon something or other. The president of their company called our firm practically begging for someone to do a complete rehaul of their finances. Apparently they’ve got an accountant who can’t pour champagne out of a stiletto if the instructions were engraved on the heel.” She rolled her eyes again, and stabbed rather forcefully at an uncooperative piece of spinach. “I imagine it will occupy a good few weeks.” Olivia frowned. 

“Esme, dearest, are you absolutely sure that it’s a good idea to be working again so soon?”

“Yes? Why shouldn’t I?” Perhaps she answered too quickly, she realized, “You are,”

“I know. It’s just . . .” She set her flatware down and reached for Esme’s hand again, “You know that it’s perfectly alright if you need time, still. We’re not even properly settled into a permanent place yet, and I know you’ve plenty of other business that -” She trailed off, her gaze tearing itself away from her wife’s, falling along Esme’s open book page almost by accident. It was open to where Esme had last left off, where her photograph of Violet rested inside the crease. She met Esme’s eyes again, and her grip against her hand became just a little tighter. 

“You know me, darling,” Esme said, keeping her voice from cracking, “I’m at my best when I’m busiest.” Olivia chuckled a little, unable to disagree. “Besides. The extra money never hurts, and if all goes well, I might be able to edge out that dreadful Theodosia Burr as the city’s fifth most important financial advisor. Can you imagine the look on her face. . .” She chuckled, giving her wife’s hand another gentle grasp. “Darling, believe me when I say this is something I need to do more than anything else,”

“I do. You know that, always,”

“God, I’ll never get tired of hearing those words,” This seemed to lighten the air between them, finally,

“Look, I’m not going let us spend the first morning of our official married life wallowing in anything, so,” Esme took the opportunity to raise her mug, “I think we should celebrate. You most definitely becoming a librarian again, and me most definitely getting one over on an odious woman.”

“Not quite as poetic as our wedding toast but I suppose it’ll do,” Their glasses clinked and they finished off their hot drinks with the feeling of a weight being lifted almost completely, but perhaps not entirely. 

When they had finished eating, Olivia had offered to take the tab. As she was putting a few crisp white notes down on the table, Esme looked back over towards the table where the distempered couple from before had been sitting. There hadn’t been anybody else occupying the table and only now, there was a waitress beginning to clear it off. As she was putting on her coat, she couldn’t help but notice the shimmer. She perhaps wasn’t surprised that there was something shining from that direction, however, she was surprised that the shine was coming from somewhere along the floor.

“I’ll only be a moment,” She told Olivia. Her heels clicked slow and long against the old wooden floors, and she tried to appear as though her wandering was as casual as could be. 

“I think I might have dropped my lipstick somewhere over here,” She informed the indifferent waitress, eyeing the floor, “Ah, here we go,” 

It wasn’t a lipstick, and it wasn’t any sort of spare change. It was an ordinary cigarette case in the plainest silver imaginable. The sight made Esme’s nose wrinkle. She couldn’t remember if cigarettes were still fashionable or not, and she knew that plain silver had been out for months. Not even any sort of engraving or a pattern that gave it any semblance of a personality. There was no telling if it had belonged to the woman or the man, but either way, it had to have been left behind on accident, in their haste after making such an embarrassing scene. Not that anyone could possibly miss anything so dull, anyhow. Nonetheless, something compelled her to pocket it. She had her gloves on by this point, it wasn’t as though touching could taint her too much, anyhow.     

“Coming, Esme?” Olivia asked,

“Yes, alright,” She shoved the box into her coat pocket, and hurried along. Olivia only gave her a quizzical look as they linked arms, but didn’t ask anything more. They departed the cafe and descended the street arm in arm, leaving the strange events of the morning behind with a final resolving jingle of the door bell. 

**Author's Note:**

> A very big thank you to notinmyvocab and gray_zelle, both of whom were a huge help and support in getting this bloody story off the ground. Notinmyvocab especially, who is a terrific friend, a great writer, and has been a huge support in my writing and my nonsense. This is the first major story I've managed to begin in almost a year, and I'm so nervous and excited and I hope you all enjoyed!


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